"Math-rock [TRICOT AREN'T MATH-ROCK], that difficult domain of the over-bearded [NO ITS NOT] male where prog meets punk with wavering results [NO IT DOESNT], was high-kicked into submission by a bunch of teeny Japanese girls [THEY WERE NORMAL SIZED WOMEN].

They were a joyous mass of hair, noise [KINDA, BUT WHATEVER] and seasick rhythms [WHAT, LIKE BEEFHEART OR SOMETHING? NO]. The whole crowd fell in love with them as they fell on their backs, little legs [THEIR LEGS WERE NORMAL SIZE] thrashing in the air during their mental final track."